Part Two

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"All right," Peter clapped his hands together twice. "We have this rink for a couple of hours, thanks to a friend, so let's not waste any time."

Heath and Jake eyed each other warily across three feet of Long Island ice, neither yielding by so much as an eye blink. Maggie sat in the first row of bleachers of the venerable arena, keeping a critical eye on the two skaters, her feet up on the rail above the local hockey team's logo. A few minutes of warm up had proved that Jake and Heath both still had what it takes to compete, but they weren't taking to one another any better than they had a year ago.

"Come on," Peter said. "Loosen up. You look like you're about to pull knives on each other."

"I feel weird about dancing with a guy," Jake said.

"You're kidding," Heath said. "Everyone in competitive skating knows you're a fairy."

"That's not true!"

"No, really, everyone knows, including the sweepers."

"Shut up!"

"Both of you shut up," Peter said. "This ends now. I'm not going to have my skaters squabbling like a couple of fourth graders at recess. Grow up. You may have amateur status, but I expect you to act like professionals."

"I still feel weird about dancing with him," Jake said.

"You're not dancing. You're skating," Maggie called out. "You've done this with me hundreds of times when you were a kid. Now get into the starting waltz position, or I'll come down there and spank you."

"What about me?" Heath said.

"I'll save your spanking as a reward," she answered shortly.

"Look, guys," Peter took back their attention. "You're not going to be doing a traditional Pairs' routine in competition, but we need to start somewhere. So go ahead and get into position, and let's see how you move together."

"Come here, sweetheart," Heath drawled, holding out his arms.

"Don't make it worse," Jake said, taking Heath's hand. "Put your other hand on my shoulder."

"Why?"

"Because that's where it goes."

"If I'm a girl," Heath pointed out.

"Exactly."

"Get stuffed, mate. Tell him, Peter. He's the girl."

"I am not the girl!" Jake objected.

"You're pretty enough."

"Look who's talking, Mr. Kettle."

"What? Look, just put your hand on my shoulder."

"Forget it!"

Maggie was on the verge of shouting what's wrong with being a girl? However, Peter lost his patience first.

"Jesus!" Peter shouted. "Neither of you knotheads is a girl. That's the whole point! God as my witness, I should just shoot myself now. Why am I doing this?"

"Whoa!" Heath said in mild alarm. "Peter, mate, get hold of yourself. We'll work this out, no worries. Right, Gyllenhaal?"

Jake took Heath's hand again, and reached across to rest his other hand lightly on Heath's shoulder. "Come on," he said, as Maggie started the music. "Once around the park and back to the barn."

Heath looked puzzled by the capitulation, but fell easily into the rhythm of the instrumental piece as he and Jake skated side by side, maintaining the physical contact, gradually picking up speed. There was no awkward fumbling or unsteadiness, just a wary growing confidence as they began to trust one another's skill.

"Ready to waltz?" Jake asked, waiting for Heath's nod before turning smoothly to skate backwards, guiding them in a couple of slow circles until Heath took the lead.

"This isn't so hard," the Australian said.

"We're not doing side by side double axels."

"We could though."

Jake sighed at the cocky response. "Twirl me," he said, pleased when they completed the maneuver without a hitch and returned to waltz position. "We move pretty good together."

Heath shook off how disturbingly good the flex of Jake's hard, flat muscles felt under his palm by making a joke about it. "I noticed. Makes me wonder what you're like in bed."

"Jerk. You're full of jokes now, but I bet you won't be laughing for long."

"Stop being such a Chicken Little. I was born to wear blades, and you're a pretty fair skater. We'll be fine."

"It's not your abilities I'm worried about; it's your concentration. This is going to be a lot of hard work and not alone like you're used to. You'll be working with a partner for hours every day for months. Do you really think you can stick it out?"

"Can you?"

"Of course I can. I have something you don't have."

"A pussy?"

"No. Discipline."

Jake came to a halt in the center of the ice with a spray of fine chips off his blades, Heath following suit without thinking about it.

"I'd never have guessed you were into that. Oh, do stop making that face. You look like you threw up in your mouth. I have to make jokes, or I'll go mental. Okay?"

"Look, I still think this whole idea is ridiculous, but Maggie says that's part of its appeal. As long as we get re-instated in Singles after we win a medal, I'm game to give this a try."

"Yes!" Heath pumped a fist in the air. "This is going to be off the dial."

"God, I hope not. You have to promise you'll bring the same level of commitment to this as I do, and you have to mean it."

"No problemo."

"If you can learn discipline, I'll believe in miracles."

"I won't need discipline. I'm going to do it just to show you it's no big deal."

"Jackass."

"Nerd."

"What's going on out there?" Peter called.

"Heath can't make up his mind if he wants to go steady with me," Jake called back.

Heath's mouth fell open, and then he chuckled. "Fair enough, mate. I'll tighten up if you'll loosen up."

"No problemo," Jake answered the challenge in language he was sure Ledger understood.

Heath held out his hand. "Then let's dance, princess."

"What do you think?" Peter asked his choreographer.

Maggie leaned over the rail and met Peter's eyes. "It might not be a complete and total disaster," she said.

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The sprightly summer rain pattering of piano keys like a heartbeat dancing in anticipation filled the rink, and Bruce Springsteen sang the evocative opening lines of Thunder Road. Two men skated away from each other at the center of the ice, gliding in ever-tightening loops until they came full circle. As the rock and roll classic reached a crescendo with the raw impassioned voice singing of rolling down the window and letting the wind blow back your hair, Heath took a firm grip on Jake's crossed wrists and launched him into a throw jump. Jake pulled in his arms, fighting for more speed to complete the double salchow. He was a fraction of a second off, but it was enough to spoil the landing and he went down hard.

"You planning on getting up?" Heath asked when Jake didn't move for a few seconds.

"Yeah. I'm just tired. Tired of falling."

"Why don't you lay there until you remember how to land a basic jump? Unless you're going to claim I released you early. Again."

"You damn sure did," Maggie said, skating toward them. "Again."

"Blame is not productive, people," Peter said. "Jake? Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Jake rose and stretched. "Again?"

"Until you guys stick it," Peter said.

"It's not a particularly difficult figure." Maggie removed her red and black checked mittens and held out her hands to Heath. They skated once around the perimeter and executed the lift beautifully, minus the throw, before returning to where Jake and Peter waited. "The main difference," Maggie said, "is in your relative heights. I'm five-nine to Heath's six-two, but Jake is six foot and a hair. That's a significant difference when you're lifting someone, not to mention the weight factor."

"No excess here," Jake said quickly.

"I know," Maggie said, "but what you've got is almost all muscle, which weighs more than fat. Same goes for Heath. Your lifts and carries are going to have to be crisp. Only hold them for the required length of time, no macho bullshit. We'll just have to add some extra showy stuff in between to take up time and dazzle the judges."

"Split jumps," Heath suggested. "Put the goods in their faces."

Jake rolled his eyes to heaven. "Why me, God?" he implored.

Heath grinned as he held out his hand. "Come on. Let's try it again."

"I don't know. Maybe you need a smaller partner. How tall is Cillian Murphy? He's kind of... petite, isn't he?"

"Yes, but no one cares," Maggie said. "You and Heath are partners. Deal with it." She waited until the two young men resumed start positions before she spoke again. "By the way, the fact that you're both tall is also an advantage. You've got long arms and legs, and you can get an extension of line that shorter skaters can only dream of. Use it."

Jake looked over his shoulder at Heath. "She's right, you know. Imagine what side by side camel spins would look like from the stands."

"We can do those all day long. Let's nail this throw jump," Heath answered brusquely.

The music began again and the two men went through the same movements again. And again. And again. Each try at the routine ended with Jake crashing into the ice.

"Enough," Heath said, skating to the boards and clomping away. "I need a break. I'll see you all back here at six a.m."

"Where are you going?" Peter yelled after him.

"Where the only ice is crushed and comes in tall glasses. Don't push it, okay?"

Maggie drew breath to speak, but Peter put a hand on her forearm. "Let him go," he said. "He just needs to vent a little and he's protecting us from the fallout."

"I'd like it better if he funneled that energy into his skating."

"You think I haven't been trying to teach him that for years?"

"I can see it's working out well."

"We don't all get perfect Disney action figures to work with," Peter snapped.

"Hey! If you've got a problem with me, let's talk about it, but don't talk about Jake. There's nothing wrong with him."

"You're right. That was uncalled for. Why don't the three of us get some dinner?"

Maggie hesitated briefly before answering. "Sure. Why don't Jake and I meet you after we change?" Without waiting for an answer, she went to see how Jake was doing.

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Heath walked warily into a bar he'd visited on his last trip to New York when members of the American team had graciously taken the Aussies out for a night at the local figure skaters' hangout. With no major events scheduled in the city, and he felt reasonably sure he wouldn't encounter anyone he knew.

"Ledger, you hound!" someone called out as soon the door closed behind Heath. "What a surprise running into you here. Did you come to mingle with the real skaters?"

Heath turned toward the speaker, already recognizing the honey and venom voice of rival skater Jonathan Rhys Meyers. "Aloha, Jon," he said. "That means hi and goodbye."

"Hang on. I was only joking. Let me buy you a drink."

"Free booze?" Heath mused. "Reckon I could join you for a quick one."

Two hours later there was a wall of shot glasses stacked in front of the two young men and they were feeling the spurious and transitory glow of fellowship that comes with getting blind, legless drunk together.

"I'm doin' all the talkin'," Jon said, as he signaled for a round of beers. "What are you doin' with yourself, Ledger? All sorts of wild rumors, you know. I heard you've become a gigolo. That you've joined either a rock band, or a Buddhist temple. And the maddest one of all: that you're going to compete again. In Pairs."

"That's right," Heath said, licking the rim of his glass.

"Bollocks. You can't cooperate with another human on that level."

"And you're an expert because?"

"Don't forget that I know you. At least a little. Bet you have your partner in tears at least once per practice. She'll probably bail on you just before you're supposed to take the ice, or have a nervous breakdown in the middle of your routine because you've knocked her up. Another sleazy episode of the soap opera that is your life."

"At least people watch me," Heath mumbled. "And you're wrong about my partner."

Jon spun his barstool and leaned back against the granite counter. "I was getting around to that. Just who is your partner? I can't imagine the woman you deem worthy of sharing the ice with you. Anyway, all the female skaters in our class are teamed up solid. Dunst and Maguire. Portman and Law. The blissfully wedded Cruises. Please tell me her name."

"Gyllenhaal."

Jon sprayed the front of his shirt with stout. "I don't believe you. Maggie Gyllenhaal? The Little Mermaid came out of retirement to skate with you?"

Heath fetched a heavy sigh. "Not Maggie. Jake."

Jon laughed so hard he had to catch his breath before he could speak. "Fuck me," he gulped. "That's the laugh of the week, that is."

"I'm off," Heath said, studying his watch. "Practice at six."

"I'm up early too. Endorsements are nice, but doing bloody promotions is hell." Jon slid off the stool. "Speaking of Gyllenhaal, even if he is a poofter, and I'm glad I don't have to skate against him, I think he got a raw deal with that ban."

"What about me?"

"If you weren't taking drugs, you were probably doing something else. And anyway, you're back in the game now, aren't you?"

"You have a conveniently pragmatic way of looking at things."

"Kissh your partner for me," Jon slurred, as he walked away.

Heath had a vivid mental image of touching his lips to Jake's and a shiver ran the length of his frame. Holding up one finger to the bartender, he ordered another shot and tossed it back. He couldn't afford to have thoughts like that about his partner. He needed to maintain his objectivity. He had to stay focused on the goal, nose to the grindstone and all the other cliches about following through. Downing one more drink, Heath paid his tab and went to bed, falling into a heavy sleep without any dreams that he remembered. The next morning, when Maggie suggested moving operations to family property near Seattle, Heath raised none of the objections Peter expected, but agreed to do what was best for the team.

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Heath carried his double espresso into the locker room of the private rink. He opened his locker door to stare at the dyspeptic visage of Geoffrey Rush taped inside and embellished with Magic Marker horns. Feeling motivated, he shut the door again, and sat to take off his boots. Having assumed his partner was already on the ice, he was surprised when Jake came out of the shower. The smart-ass remark that sprang to mind was forgotten when he saw the extent of the bruising Jake had sustained over the past week.

"Sorry I'm late," Heath said.

"Don't worry about it."

"The hot shower help with that?" Heath gestured at the archipelagoes of stormy purple that dappled the other man's skin.

"Don't worry about it," Jake repeated. "I won't slow you down."

Heath grimaced. "I didn't mean... Never mind. Anything I can do to help?"

Jake stared at the Australian. "Like what? Lace my skates for me maybe?"

"If you need me to," Heath's defensiveness flared.

"Please just go and let me get dressed in relative peace."

Clenching his jaw to hold in a cutting remark, Heath snatched up his skates and left. Gingerly, Jake lowered himself to the bench and began drawing on the padded spandex cycling pants he liked to practice in. His movements were stiff and it took a little longer than usual, which Maggie noted as soon as he appeared.

"Lay off!" Jake said with uncharacteristic sharpness. Maggie's face clearly reflected her hurt feelings and Jake immediately skated to her side. "I'm sorry, Mags," he said as he hugged her. "You didn't deserve that."

"Look, I know they say that incest is best, but could we..." Heath's words ended when Jake was suddenly chest-to-chest with him.

"Shut your fucking mouth," Jake said between his teeth.

"I don't think you're supposed to use the eff word, princess, it's not..." Heath began, when Jake put both hands on his chest and shoved him hard. The Australian hit the ice on his butt and stared up at his partner.

"Don't you ever say anything like again," Jake warned.

Heath assessed the frozen fire in the other man's glacial eyes. "It was just a joke," he said.

"It was in really bad taste," Peter said, prepared to throw himself between Heath and Jake.

"Point taken." Heath got to his feet. "Won't happen again."

Peter blinked in amazement. Heath Ledger had backed down for the first time since Peter had known him.

"Jake?" Maggie said softly. "Sticks and stones, right?"

"Right, but..."

"No buts. Look at me. Heath is your partner and your only chance at gold and some sort of warped justice. Only you know if it's worth or not. If it is, then I'm with you to the end."

Jake nodded and hugged her again before letting go and facing Heath. "Why do you hate me so much?" he asked. "What did I ever do to you?"

Maggie threw her hands in the air and skated over to sit on a once opulent couch at the edge of the ice. Peter joined her next to the bank of space heaters and the Mr. Coffee machine as Jake waited for Heath's answer.

"I don't hate you," Heath waffled.

"The hell you don't. You've had it in for me from day one and don't tell me it's just the rivalry of competition."

Heath took a deep breath through his nose and let it out again. "Maybe I resent you a little. I grew up skating on a designated patch of ratty ice with dozens of other ratbag kids at a public rink. You've got your own private ice palace. I had to scrounge and take part time work and charity so I could afford equipment. You've always had the top of the line handed to you on a platter. My family couldn't be less interested in what I'm doing. Your family..." Heath's voice trailed off. "You see what I'm getting at?"

"Yeah, but it's not my fault I was born into a wealthy family. Just the luck of the draw. Resenting me for that would be like hating me because I have blue eyes."

"I was coming to that," Heath smiled.

Jake eyed him warily. "Are we okay?"

"For now. Feel like doing something constructive?"

"Always."

"Let's try a press lift where you end up facing the opposite direction from me in a kind of modified helicopter."

"What's modified about it?"

"I'll be rotating in the other direction."

"Is that legal?"

"Do I look like I give a shit? You need to have confidence in my ability to lift you and set you back down without killing you. If the boot were on the other foot, I'd have complete faith in you, Steady Eddy, but our choreographer likes you in the air, so we need to work this out."

Jake refrained from mentioning that they'd been trying to do that for weeks. "All right," he said. "Whatever it takes."

Heath held out his hand and Jake placed his fingers on the other man's palm. Jake made a ninety-degree turn on his blades and Heath's big hand settled on hip. The nostalgic harmonica strains of the intro to Thunder Road drifted from the speakers and Heath gave Jake a small shove to assist his take off. They got the attention of their coaches with a couple of hanging split jumps before skating back to center ice. Picking up speed as they converged, they spun, locked hands in a sold grip for a clean lift, and Jake was elevated above Heath's head as the world turned around him like a carousel in reverse. One Mississippi. Jake spread his legs in a full pike, toes pointing in opposite directions. Two Mississippi. Heath shifted his hold to Jake's thigh and Jake extended his arms in a graceful arc before allowing them to float apart. Three Mississippi. Heath straightened his line, bending his forward knee into a lunge as he conveyed Jake back to the ice. Jake lowered his foot, trusting the surface to be there and his blade touched down like a swan settling on a calm lake.

"Beautiful," Maggie shouted, her applause muffled by her mittens as Jake turned the landing into a classic flying camel with Heath in pursuit.

Peter nodded, smiling at the two skaters as they coasted to a stop. "That was a revelation, gentlemen. I might not have to wear a disguise to the competition."

Read Chapter 3 of Bailey's Pairs